Your Driver Is Waiting

by Priya Guns

unless the drivers were young men who drove as if the only real meaning they had in their lives was when they pretended to be drag racers, driving aimlessly up and down the same street to prove they’ve got testicles. Vroom fucking vroom, they were that vacuous inside. I could understand the desire for speed but not the need for a good-for-nothing obnoxiously loud muffler.